I Dare You to Move
by HowDoYouWords
Summary: I was just itching to write some America and England angst, I suppose. I wrote this a year or so ago, and I'm uploading some old stories. Basically, all this is is just one big fight between my favorite Hetalia boys. One big angst attempt I wrote a while back and decided to post. Mentions of Revolution, obviously, because America and England. Kisses! HDYW


HEY, YOU. YEAH, BB, HI.  
Okay, there's a little thing at the bottom of this story that would be cool for you to read. Just a little heads up on everything that's going on. I wrote this a while back, but I say that in the miniature novel that I accidentally wrote down there. ._.  
Kisses! ~HDYW

Author's Note: I started this on a Hetalia hype, but then I got into Marvel heroes and villains. So I started to make Alfred a bit like Loki, now that I look back on it... xDD The songs I listened to were "Dare You to Move" by Switchfoot for the first bit, and "Without You" by David Guetta for the rest. So I listened to something like "Without You" while writing a Loki-like America.

What's wrong with me.  
Anyway, England and America obviously do not belong to me, because if they did, they'd be a legit pairing. ._. We all favor different things, people. In this one, though, I didn't picture them together. View it however you wish, though.  
Alright, I'm done. Read if you want, try to enjoy my attempt at angst, and reviews never hurt anyone. ;)

"Oh, _please,_ England... I think I've figured out how to run a country by now..." America huffed, crossing his arms. England scoffed, stopping mid-pace to gape at the other nation.  
"Oh _really_, America?! Because the way things are looking for your country right now aren't so wonderful! Do you realize how this affects you?! You're going against everything you say you are! This "federal nation" you've been babbling on about forever isn't very federal anymore, now is it? It's starting to look a little like a union state!" he snapped, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration at America. America glared at him, the dying light of the fireplace making his clear blue eyes all the more intense.

"Wow, England, the way you make it sound, if that was actually happening, it'd be a bad thing. Isn't England a union state?" he retorted, his voice harboring a sharper edge to it. England whipped around to face him, a look of pure exasperation evident. Taking long strides, he made his way across the dimly lit den towards the American.

"You are so intent on being as immature and impossible as you can possibly be, that I'm shocked you've maintained any control over anything at all! Alliances, trading partners, your own country, for God's sake! I'm not trying to say that a union state is bad, I'm saying that you're making yourself look awful! You're against all you've said America is! Democratic, just, etc.. You obviously haven't figured out what's best for a country, because being a hypocrite isn't very high on what gives you respect from the rest of the world. And even if you can't do anything about it, at least realize or acknowledge something may be wrong!" America stared at him silently with a look of defiance, his jaw clenching and unclenching rhythmically. England feigned surprise, his hand going over his heart.  
"Shocking, you haven't flown off the handle yet. Usually by now you're yelling how 'awesome' you are and how wrong I am abou-"  
"God, you're doing it AGAIN! You're ALWAYS telling me what to do and how to do it!" America bellowed, closing the little distance of about five feet between them. England rolled his eyes.  
"Oh, not this again... Yes, poor, poor you. Please... You're acting like a child," he scoffed, rolling his eyes and turning on his heel to go have tea.  
"Maybe it's because I practically am one! I'm barely two hundred years old, aren't I?!" England halted to a stop instantly, unbelieving of what he'd heard. He turned to face the younger nation, speechless. Had he really just admitted to being a child? _America?!_  
"Look how far I've gotten in that time! Look at all I've done!" he demanded furiously, gesturing behind him. "You're two thousand, aren't you? It took you that long to get where I got in two hundred! I had men on the moon! I created one of the most popular and most-loved sports! I'm where people can start a new life, no matter where they're from or who they are! I'm what everyone can call home! I'm called 'Land of the Free' and 'Home of the Brave' for a reason, Arthur, believe it or not. Why can't you just abandon your pride for once and just acknowledge everything I've achieved?! You don't even have to say it's good, just acknowledge it, acknowledge _me!_"

England stood silent, his feet appearing frozen to the floor as he looked at America, for once without anything to say.

"I _dare_ you to acknowledge me. To say I've done amazing things. To stop pointing out every flaw of mine and everything I've done wrong and call me your equal." His voice was barely audible, on the verge of breaking. England could only stare wide-eyed, speechless.  
"Everything you do, you do for _you_. You made me your colony for land, for resources, to show the rest of the world that you own a whole new piece of land, and it's all yours," America continued, voice still shaking slightly while he glared daggers into his former guardian's eyes.  
"You didn't stop and think for _one second _that I would grow and be my own nation, did you?! You thought me small and weak and under your command for all time, right?! That I could never be what I am today; strong, independent, a world power... You thought I'd be your little colony forever," he snapped, his voice growing stronger and harsher with every syllable. England's eyebrows knitted together, but not in anger; in blossoming worry. America had never been like this. Not since the Revolution. His frown deepened once he took notice of America's loudening footfalls toward him.  
"You may think of me as arrogant, proud, and vain, but if I had anyone better to learn it from, it was _you_," he seethed, pointing an accusatory finger at the Briton.  
"Maybe it's just your inner pirate desperate to make sure we don't forget about it, but for as long as I've known you, you've always been the proudest, most arrogant man or nation I've ever met. Not even _France_ could surpass you in any of those qualities. He backs down once he's seen that he's hurting someone, but _not you_," he hissed, a spark of pure hatred flashing behind his now icy blue eyes.  
"_You_ go in for the kill. You're _relentless_. You strike _over_ and _over_ and _over_ again, until you're the last man standing, until you're the only one left to be in charge." England swallowed hard, hurt and shock visible on his face. America looked so-_monstrous_. He was practically trembling with the rage he had repressed for all these years...  
"And then you _keep_ attacking, to make sure the other stays down. Can't have anyone else being as high and mighty as you are, right, Arthur? Or even more frightening, _above_ you. I don't think you'd be able to stand that. All that shame..." A harsh bark of mirthless laughter broke from the American's mouth. "But then again, _I_ did. _I_ broke you," he said, his voice full of emotion, of anger and a hint of shameless pride. "I don't think I've ever seen a more pitiful man than when you were on your knees before me, sobbing into your hands like you'd lost everything. It's not like you didn't have any other nations to tower over. You had plenty of them. Still do, even." England didn't realize his tears until they were dripping off his cheek and onto his hand, but made no attempt to hide them. America was his only focus right now; that America sounded so _hateful_ to him.  
"America-" he started, emotion drowning his voice and any thoughts of pride that he felt he needed to keep.  
"_Do you _realize_ how much I looked up to you?_" He hissed, glaring into England's eyes. England choked down the lump forming in his throat, returning his former charge's scorching looks with nothing but sadness.  
"Yes. Yes, I realize-"  
"What was _wrong_ with me?!" America swatted a nearby unfortunate flower vase off its stand-one that held Britain's national flower; roses. England's eyes blinked shut at the sound of it crashing to the floor.  
"Why would I want to be _anything _like _you_?! You're _demanding, intolerant, impatient, always _pointing out _everybody's_ flaws..." he snarled, growing louder and louder.  
"_It's no wonder everyone keeps leaving you, you're so damned impossible to live with!" _he shouted, slamming his fist down on the previous flower stand.

England's breathing hitched, his heart skipping a beat. Emerald eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears, he took in his former colony, his former little brother. America held no sympathy whatsoever in his eyes; they were only cold and hateful. It was as though the America he knew wasn't even there. His vision became blurrier as he gazed at this darker side of America, swallowing and blinking them away. He couldn't _cry_. But of course America had to bring up the Revolution and how everyone he'd ever loved had ended up leaving him. Attempting a calm appearance, he looked into America's raging eyes again, trying to find his voice.  
"America, I - I-"  
"Look at you. And you always tell me _I'm_ 'babbling nonsense'." He mocked, his fingers gripping the edge of the stand he had previously taken his anger out on.  
"I never meant to make you feel like this abou-"  
"About _what_, Britain?! About you controlling everything you possibly can?! About you?! That's what everything's about, isn't it? _You_?!" He started, rocketing off into another stream of anger. "Do you _ever_-"  
"I'M SORRY, America!" He yelled. America stopped mid-sentence, his back straightening to where he was standing straighter as he stared at England. His eyes darted back and forth, from one of England's eyes to the other.  
"What?" He'd gone back to being barely audible, his eyebrows furrowing together.  
"I'm so sorry, Alfred... _So, so, sorry_," he choked out, laying his hands palm-up in front of himself. His vision became unclear again, a watery blur of color taking the place of America before he blinked them away, causing them to drip down his face.  
"I never meant to hurt you, Alfred, I just- I wanted to keep you safe, and- I wanted you to always be there, but I didn't want you to feel... _trapped_, or-or _belittled_, or anything else that would've caused you to eventually hate me and leave... I just-" he stammered, looking down at his hands as though they held the words he needed to tell the man before him. America stayed silent, offering no hint of how he was feeling to him.  
"I loved you so much, Alfred. I still do. I wanted nothing but the best for you. And being a nation involves war, and depressions, and death, and I didn't want that for you... I wanted you to feel forever safe and loved, and that's why I fought to keep you. I never-" he paused to take in a shaky breath. "I never wanted you to have to face the same things all of us had to. All of us nations. I wanted you to be with me so I could keep you safe from things like that and other nations that may have sought to hurt you and take you away from me." He searched America for a reaction, for something, for _anything_. Just not this pregnant silence that fell between them with America staring him down. America dropped his gaze to the floor, a concentrated and difficult expression on his face.

"I didn't simply seek to keep you under my control and use you for your land. The second I saw your face in that meadow, I wanted nothing but to protect you. I easily grew to love you unconditionally, and I admit, I was selfish. You're right; I didn't think for a single second that you'd be what you are today." He saw America's eyes shift at that, now glued to the leg of the table.  
"I thought you'd always be little. But then you started growing, and you started to become more rebellious, and... I denied the fact that I was losing you. And that caused me to become bitter at the thought of you wanting to leave. Not at you," he added quickly, raising a hand slightly toward him. "But at myself for letting it happen. I thought there must have been something I could have done, or something I should have done, but didn't. Or that I shouldn't have done something that I did- just that I had caused that rift to occur between us," he explained, starting to unconsciously pick at his cuticles. "And there's nothing I regret more."  
America brought his gaze back up to meet England's at that. The first thing England noticed was that America's eyes were no longer cold and piercing. The second thing he noticed, much to his surprise, was that they were tinted red and shone with wetness. Rather than rage, his expression was filled with sorrow. Lifting himself off the stand he had supported himself on, he steadily walked towards England. No anger, no hate, no cold glares. Before England could grasp that America wasn't screaming at him, he found himself being embraced. Not tightly, but not loosely. It was a snug and comfortable embrace, one that was intended to comfort and calm. One for someone you love. England, without a second's hesitation, wrapped his arms around the man's middle, and started rubbing soothing circles on his back whilst murmuring reassuring words into his ear.  
"Thank you, Arthur." He said, muffled by the fabric of England's sweater. The corners of the former empire's lips tugged upwards at that, a hum forming in the back of his throat.  
"Anything for you, Alfred."

* * *

Alright, so that's my abrupt ending to this odd attempt of an angst-fest. ._. So, reviews are appreciated, obviously, and everyone who does gets a hug from Arthur. 'v' Or Alfred, whichever you choose. xD  
Alright.  
So...  
Yeah. ._.  
That's it. ._.  
Sorry if I disappointed you with my angst attempt. D: If you hated it so much that you feel this intense need to tell me how much you hated it, feel free to. But don't unless you're going to be specific. If you're going to be specific about why you hated it so much, then by all means, review away. I would like to improve my writing, so believe me; it's appreciated. If they were too OOC, I apologise. DD: I was attempting a darker side of Alfred and a more emotional side of Arthur.  
I mean, dude.  
Ouch. ._.  
I don't know about you, but I felt bad for the guy when I saw the Revolutionary War episode. And whenever you realize a lot (if not everyone) of people he loves leave him. His brothers, France (when he was taking care of him after his douchebag brothers left and then he himself left), America namely, and others. Would Seychelles count? :o  
Geez this is long. ._. Sorry. Okay, now I'm done. Farewell. Have a fantastic day. :D I finished this at 6:07 A.M. and am going to face hell when I go to Band Camp in two hours.  
Why did I do this..?  
Oh yes. Because I suddenly wanted to write this and felt like I absolutely had to do it right now. ._. :ADFJS:LKDJFS:FKJ  
Wish me luck at Band Camp... DD:

* * *

2nd Author's Note: Wow, this is a suckish way to start off a new account. :/ With five million author's notes, holy Jesus. Don't worry, guys, I swear I'm not going to plague every story I post with endless ANs.  
At least, I'll try not to. ; v ;

Okay, first story. I wrote this like, two years ago about, I think. xD Maybe a year and a half? I was starting Band Camp, so a while back. I was gonna upload a few stories I wrote a while ago and then write some new ones, update as I go. And edits will be made when I can fit more time in. I've been pretty busy and stressed because school. ;_; I came on here again to try and relieve that for a while. xD

Okay, if you've read this far, I officially respect you immensely for it.

You know what, I'll just post a whole thing about the situation.

I'm sorry, I love you, I don't mean to put you through all this reading when you just want stories, omg. ;_;

Okay, much love, bye. ; v ;


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